


Burnt, Broken & Things That Need Repairing

by nordicdreamsndutchthings



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston-Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Drama, F/M, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5357861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nordicdreamsndutchthings/pseuds/nordicdreamsndutchthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't exactly stand out in a crowd.</p><p> Sure, she did drugs, flunked school and did everything that she wasn't supposed to but other than that, Cameron was ordinary- plain.</p><p> No one looked twice at her when walking down the streets or even the classroom, for the matter. So why exactly he thought she was more than that confused her.</p><p> Tom Hiddleston's mental, she liked to think.</p><p>The kind of mental that made her warm and fuzzy inside and also worried her greatly because he was so much older and more sophisticated than her.</p><p>The story of how Tom Hiddleston met his match, and not the kind of match he'd expected anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homeless

Perhaps the biggest mistake which Cameron made was to be born.

 

Really, the fight against all sorts of anti bodies for weeks- and then months of struggle against germs and gods knows what- not to mention the initial race against other tiny sperms like her should have never happened; it was not, Cameron later decided, worth it.

 

It really wasn’t.

 

It would have saved her a great deal of disappointment from what had become of her life and quite frankly, would have saved her mother the trouble of bearing her.

 

Everyone would have been happy.

 

Lin would have one less orphaned, but not completely orphaned for her parents were still alive and breathing, mouth to feed, her father would have one less child’s future to worry about; her sister would have no one’s hands- me-downs to wear- well, at least Ophelia wouldn’t. Jenny would still have to wear Opel’s clothes. But that wasn’t the point.

 

The point was, in general, the world would have one less ghetto kid to think about.

 

Because that’s what she was- a ghetto kid.

 

Okay, so _maybe_ that was a little exaggeration and she wasn’t exactly a ghetto kid but she was homeless four out of the seven days in a week what with her continuous fight with her parents on petty reasons but- _really, why was she even bothering with this?_

 

Life, in general, would have been easier if Cameron did not exist.

 

And that fact could not be denied.

 

If she had the chance to take it all back, she would do so in a heartbeat. Not existing had never sounded so tempting before but of course, since it _basically_ was a privilege- not to exist, that is- Cameron found herself, well, _existing_.

 

It hurt really.

 

The entire cycle of life, that is.

 

Cameron had the option of ending her life and saving herself and her family- if not the rest of the world- a whole lot of misery but-

 

She found herself unable to do so.

 

No matter how hard she tried, how much she prepared herself, Cameron could never- for reasons only God knew- pull the trigger.

 

She just couldn’t.

 

And the worst part?

 

Cameron _wanted_ to die.

 

She just didn’t have the courage to.

 

Yet another one of Fate’s ironies when it came to someone like _her_.

 

 _Whoever Fate was_ , Caro decided _, she was one sadistic bitch and Cameron was her loyal masochist_.

 

Life had a reputation of being thrown back at her face so it really should have been no surprise when her manuscript got rejected by yet another literary firm.

 

And why would they even take her shit? She thought.

 

She was no JK Rowling.

 

She was just Cameron.

 

Plain Cameron from round the corner.

 

Nothing good ever happened to plain Cameron from round the corner.

 

It was the law of the universe. The pinnacle of truth.

 

Good things never happened to Cameron.

 

She should have known better. How could she even think- even _fathom_ for even a second that good things could happen to her?

 

Nothing good had happened to her since the day Sara died. It had all gone downhill for Cameron since Sara died.

 

Sara, her best friend.

 

Sara, who knew everything about Cameron the unworthy.

 

Sara, who had so much to live for, she had died leaving Cameron- wrecked Cameron in this harsh cruel world.

 

Really, it was Cameron who should have died that day, not Sara. Sara had deserved to live. She, on the other hand, was an agent of chaos, of bad omen to everyone and everywhere she went.

 

But she could not deny it.

 

There had been something akin to hope when that big publishing firm had called her that day last week when she was going to Mike’s for the usual joint. The publishers had sounded so enthusiastic and interested that she had allowed herself to hope, to dream.

 

 _It’s going to be alright now;_ she remembered herself thinking as she turned around and left Mike’s without her weekly supply, _it’s going to be better._

She had been good the whole week after that. She had kept her room clean (well, her part of the room anyway), had not argued with her parents (that had backfired because her mother thought she was ignoring them) and even did all her homework and submitted them early-much to the delight of all her teachers. She had decided to turn over a good leaf.

 

A fresh start for Cameron the writer.

 

She had sworn to give up all her vices if this one thing turned out in her favor.

 

_If only she’d known…_

 

Sighing, Cameron pulled out a cigarette.  Even though she knew it wasn’t right, these little cancer sticks had been her release lately. Either way, they were a whole lot better than her usual stuff- and considering the stuff that she usually used, this was nothing really.

 

Lighting it up, Cameron drew the stick to her mouth and took a long swing, surveying the deserted tube station around her. Only one or two people hung around- it being around twelve thirty in the…. Morning, was it?

 

Yes, morning.

 

She was waiting for her aunt to pick her. Aunt Linda- her mother’s elder sister- who she called Lin was the only person in the world who knew and encouraged Cameron’s dreams- if there were any. Her only dream of getting a quality education had been shattered when the publishing company thought that her work wasn’t good enough. If she didn’t know better she’d say that Lin was the only person in the world who cared the tiniest bit about Cameron.

 

_But…_

 

She _knew_ better and Lin was the only person in the world who genuinely cared and made an effort to get to know her. Her mother and sisters certainly didn’t. And her father? Well, he was never home to speak of and when he was, he would spend time fighting with her mother over the stupidest things and frankly, she wasn’t sure about him either. She did not even remember a single time when he-

 

“You know that cigarettes kill right?” Someone invaded Cameron’s overview of life.

 

Cameron looked up to meet a pair of striking blue eyes and a worried face framed with short blondish curls…. Only to find herself getting very dizzy. She hated this.

 

_The withdrawals were kicking in!_

 

She had not taken a good dose in a week and now it was affecting her. White hot pain shot through her body towards her brain, nearly blinding her in the process. Her lungs were on fire and she could hear her heart beat faster, drumming against her ears. Suddenly, the lights in the station seemed too bright, the man’s - for he was a man given how his voice was deep and masculine- voice suddenly too loud.

 

Cameron felt nostalgic;   _her world spinning……_

 

But of course all of this was happening in her head, within her being and whoever this guy was, he really couldn’t see what she was going unless he was some sort of psychic or something.

 

“Yeah,” she replied, dropping her gaze. The intruder was too tall and it was taking a lot of effort to crane her neck to look at him. Basically, with or without her dizzy spell, she was least bothered.

 

“Then why take it?” A Londoner. His accent was one of those posh ones- the kind she normally would die for if she had met him a year ago but that had been when Sara was alive- when things had been _better._

 

“Because I want to,” she told him indifferently. _Where was Lin?_

 

“Is it really worth it?” he asked her.

 

Cameron shrugged, looking around for her aunt.

 

“You can always get help if that’s what-”

 

Cameron rolled her eyes in irritation. “Listen,” she said, turning to her left completely to face the man, “I just had a real shitty day so with all due respect, stop getting into my damned business. Thank you.”

 

The man flinched but said nothing and Cameron turned around again, hoping that Aunt Linda would magically appear from somewhere. She did not want to spend time in a tube station with some humanitarian weirdo who clearly had never faced any real issues in his life. She pulled out her cell phone from her front pocket and dialed her aunt’s number.

 

A few rings later, Lin picked up.

 

“Aunt Lin, where are you?” she asked, forgoing the social requirements.

 

“Guh- wha? Who’s this?”

 

“It’s me.”

 

“Oh- shouldn’t you be in bed right now?”

 

“Uh… Aunt Linda. I’m… in London,” she stated as a matter of factly.

 

That seemed to wake her up. “London? What’re you doing- oh, my god! Cameron, I completely forgot!”

 

Cameron sighed.  Maybe she had expected too much from Lin as well.

 

 

“It’s okay, I’ll manage.” _Thanks Fate, you’re the best._

 

“No, I can-”

 

“It’s cool,” she cut her short, “don’t waste your time. I’ll get there by morning. Don’t worry.” And then she hung up.

 

Cameron weighed her options. She could either risk getting lost by taking the wrong train and waste what little money she had or, she could spend the night here and then call Lin to pick her up tomorrow. Neither sounded good.

 

 Cameron sighed and slumped next to the intruder on the bench, bringing her legs to her chest and burying her face into the little space in between.

 

Here she was.

 

A nobody from a rundown neighbor in the forgotten parts of Cardiff. Alone in a tube station in London miles away from home- if you call it that- with no place to spend the night and cash only enough to buy her a single train ticket.

 

Oh, and she hadn’t eaten anything all morning.

 

 Speaking of which, at that same moment her stomach let out a low rumble telling her that yes, it indeed had nothing all day and it was starving, and Cameron let out a groan- much to the amusement of her companion.

 

The man next to her softly chuckled and Cameron glared at him.

 

“What- it was funny,” he justified but she simply narrowed her eyes and refused to acknowledge him. “So what’s your name?” he asked her a few moments later.

 

Cameron pressed her lips together in irritation but then let out a sigh. “Cameron,” she replied. The man extended his hand and she took it. “Nice to meet you Cameron,” he said as they shook hands, “I’m Tom.”

 

Cameron gave him the faintest of smiles out of sheer politeness- otherwise she had not interest in him or what the world had to offer. Her head had started to hurt and all she wanted was to lie down in her warm bed but clearly that was not going to be happening. Apparently this night, like so many, was going to be spent hurdled in a corner, shivering.

 

“You’re not from around here,” Tom observed.

 

“Yeah, I’m from Cardiff,” replied she.

 

He wanted to talk and she wanted to not think about her situation- so be it. He would be the perfect distraction for the time being.

 

“Wow, you’re a long way from home. What brings you here?”

 

Cameron made a face.

 

“Alright, alright- I won’t ask,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

 

“No, it’s okay,” she said, “it doesn’t really matter anyway. I was here because I heard from one of the literary firm. They were considering my writings- I thought I might end up with a deal or something. Stupid idea really. Waste of time.”

 

“I don’t think it’s a waste of time.” Tom frowned. “Did they accept it?”

 

Cameron clucked her tongue in denial. “No. And they had every right to. Clearly I wasn’t good enough.”

 

“No- I’m sure you were great,” he encouraged her. She smirked cynically.

 

“How about I read your writing and tell you what I think?” he suggested.

 

Cameron sighed. “Sure,” she said as she pulled out the folder with her manuscript- all printed and stuff (another dream failed) - out of her rucksack and handed it to him. Tom read it and for the next fifteen minutes, silence overtook them.

 

“This is…. Brilliant,” he commented, much to Cameron’s surprise- as he gave her the folder back. “Could I have a copy of that? I’ve never read something quite like it. Are you a literature student?”

 

Cameron snorted at that. “I’m barely through school,” she told him and Tom stared at her in awe.

 

“Really? Well, you have a gift Cameron.”

 

“I-It’s nothing,” she uttered, looking down at her hands. Her face was heating up. She didn’t know how to react.

 

No one had ever praised her work. There was something about his tone that left her flustered.

 

 Was the accent?

 

Or the frequency of his voice- all deep and silk like?

 

Whatever it was, it was just plain _weird._

 

“I know a few people who can at look at your work… if you don’t mind,” he told her, “would you rather if I gave them this-?”

 

Cameron looked at him suspiciously and then, rather childishly added, “If you promise not to use my work as your own.”

 

Tom grinned. “Of course not, you’re the writer. Why would I do that?”

 

“Just making sure,” she said, handing him the folder again.

 

The train which he’d been waiting for arrived and Tom stood up. “Well, that’s my cue,” he said to her. Cameron simply shrugged.

 

“I’ll need your number for-” He began, not sure how to go with it. He felt as though he was suddenly fifteen again, asking that hot girl across the street for her number. Only he wasn’t fifteen anymore and this girl- Cameron was at least ten years younger than him.

 

Cameron nodded and said, “My number’s written at the end of the….” She showed Tom where it was.

 

“Thanks,” he said but then frowned. It was well past the hour of twelve wasn’t it?

 

“This train lead to Victoria Station too,” he pointed out, “shouldn’t you be coming?”

 

Cameron shrugged. “My aunt’ll pick me up tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?” he repeated bewildered. “But where will you stay the night?”

 

“I’ll just crash here for a while,” she replied, looking around almost dazed- much to his alarm.

 

“Alone? At a tube station- no,” Tom said, shaking his head, “I won’t have it. You can stay at my place. I have plenty of room.”

 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve seen worse,” she insisted.

 

 _Worse? What did that mean?_ He wondered. Her words made him even more worried about her. However, for the sake of his own conscious, he chose to ignore that for the time being.

 

“I won’t be able to sleeping knowing that I left someone alone and hungry at a tube station,” he countered.

 

“Hungry?” Cameron started to protest. “I’m not hun-” But a low rumble room her stomach left her quiet.

 

“See- come with me,” Tom insisted, “besides I was just heading to this great place that’s open all the time anyway. Join me, it’ll be my pleasure.”

 

Cameron thought for a moment. Her brain was all muddled up due to the combined effects of the cigarette and lack of sustenance. For all she knew, he could be a murderer who might kill her but honestly- if she thought for a moment and considered her luck that would be too good for her. He had to be one of those extremely kind posh people she hated because they all reminded her of Sara.

 

Cameron did not want to think about Sara. Not right now anyway. So she took a deep breath before uttering one simple word, “Fine.”

* * *

 

Tom led the young dark haired girl out of the tube station and towards a restaurant. He hadn’t planned this night to turn out the way it did, but it had and now he was taking a girl out to dinner.  And just the other day his sister was saying that he should tart dating again. _Oh the irony_.

 

But really, Cameron was a friend- an acquaintance whom he had met rather coincidently at the station with a gift for writing- and Tom couldn’t help but notice- an air of unawareness for her surroundings.

 

Something told him- and this was just a gut feeling- that she was into extensive drug use and that was primarily one of the reasons why he had been insistent on having her off the streets. He wasn’t a stranger to drug use, considering how his mother had read and advocated against it often. In fact, drug use had been one of the dinner conversations they’d have back at home. His mother had somehow sensed that a lot of people he knew were resorting to drug use to cope with the pressure of studying in university. His mother had always advised them against it and Tom was utterly grateful for that.

 

Cameron wasn’t that lucky though. She either, did not grasp the seriousness of what she was doing, or something had compelled her to do so.

 

Whoever Cameron was, there was something about her. Something beyond that general dazed expression, all the drug abuse- something that might be worthwhile for some reason it intrigued him. But of course, it could well be just the fact that he didn’t know many teenagers- most of them being his fans- personally. Maybe it was the generation gap.

 

Or her gift.

 

Why would any firm reject such a nice piece of writing?

 

He had meant every word when he said that she had a gift. Though it could not be compared to the works of masters (yet), he had a feeling that if she was put into the field, she could turn out quite well. One of his professors at university had once told him that gifted- proper talented writers with a natural flair for writing were born once in a generation and that he’d know when he met one and yes, he did.

 

Her story- what he had read of it anyway- seemed simple enough. From what the first few pages said, it was about a young girl who woke up one morning to find out that she had never been born. Though the idea was quite mainstream- probably the reason why the publication house turned it down- the way she wrote it made it seem different.

 

He planned on sending it to his former professor. He’d know what to do with it.

 

Tom took hold of her hand and- ignoring the electric shock like sensation that overtook him for a moment when their skin came into contact- pulled her close.

 

“Stay close to me, it’s not…. Safe at this time,” he told her, mentally kicking himself for bringing a child at such a place in the early of the new day no less.

 

Cameron seemed unfazed and she nodded. For someone with the ability to capture a moment in writing so well, Tom noticed that she didn’t speak much.

 

They walked in silence towards the restaurant for a bit. Tom was actually nervous, he realized _._

_Well, of course he would be._

 

He had no idea what kind of food she liked. What if she hated Chinese? Lord, he should have thought this through!

 

“So, here we are,” he smiled sheepishly at her once the restaurant came into view.”I do so hope you like Chinese.”

 

Cameron produced a faint smile. “It’s alright.”

 

And that’s it.

 

That’s all she said to him.

 

Tom was confused.

 

The girl he’d met was a lot more talkative than this one. Had the withdrawals kicked in already? Or was she simply sleepy?

 

He hoped to god it was the latter.

 

Tom sighed as he guided her into the restaurant. _What did he get himself into?_

 

He chose a relatively isolated area to sit for obvious reasons. He hoped she wouldn’t mind.

 

She didn’t seem to mind, Cameron simply followed him.

 

He smiled nervously at Cameron who now sat opposite. Well, this was not expected.

 

“So you’re from Cardiff,” he said in an attempt to start a conversation,

 

That seemed to get her attention. “Yeah, well- I mean, that’s where I’ve lived all my life. I was actually born in Sheffield.”

 

“Really, that’s nice. Did your parents move away from-” Tom trailed off when he noticed her flinch at the mention of her parents.

 

“No, they’re from Cardiff- I mean, mum is anyway. My dad’s from Berlin- I’m not sure,” yawned she.

 

_Yup- definitely sleepy. Thank the Lord._

 

They talked a little- well, it was basically Tom who did the talking; Cameron looked as though she would doze off any minute. It was only after they had had soup that she actually started taking part in the conversation and he realized that she wasn’t as shy as she made it out to be. She was just sleepy- doe eyed and all- and it had taken her a while to adjust But when wide awake- an evident result of the soup she had- Cameron was a person he could easily talk to. They talked of just about everything; from sports to food to international affairs.

 

“You know, for someone your age, you know a lot of these things,” he couldn’t help but compliment.

 

Cameron grinned. “That’s basically the definition of my life.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” he asked her.

 

“Seventeen in May,” she answered.

 

_So she was less than half his age._

“You don’t look seventeen.”

 

“Well, that’ the advantage of being freakishly tall,” she said, playing with a strand of hair which for some reason he found rather distracting.

 

“Right.”

 

“No really, I’ve been able to watch _soo_ many R-rated movies because of this,” she stated as a matter of factly.

 

“What?”

 

“Oops.” She slapped her mouth with her right hand rather comically.

 

“No- what did you say?” Tom asked her, enjoying how her skin changed color. “R- rated movies?”

 

“Well, yeah-” She confessed, “My best friend and I used to do that all the time.”

 

“Used to?” He didn’t mean to pry but it did sound strange.

 

“Yeah,” she answered almost airily.

 

Tom frowned but didn’t press on.

 

“She’s dead,” she told him after a moment.

 

That took him by surprise. “Who?”

 

“My best friend’s dead,” she stated rather coldly. Tom was taken aback.

 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said, wishing there was a way he could do about it. Of course, the only thing he could do was reverse time and not ask the question but obviously he couldn’t do that so here they were.

 

“Eh, it’s cool,” she waved it off with a hand before her hands on the table. “So   Tom,” she began. “You’ve basically collected enough information to write a memoir about me. Tell me something about yourself.”

 

Tom sighed. The inevitable question. “Hmm, there’s nothing interesting,” he said hoping to dissuade her. His mother did say to them that teenagers had the lowest attention span in the world but that was when he and his sisters were teenagers themselves. Could it still be true?

 

Clearly not, since the next thing she said was, “I’m all ears.”

 

“Well, I studied Classics at Cambridge,” he said.

 

“Neat,” Cameron said, her eyes lighting up, “my grandfather went there too.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah- there’s a photograph of him on his graduation day. Quite grainy if you ask me.”

 

Tom chuckled _. “Grainy?”_

 

“Yeah- it looks kinda fake but I scanned the thing. It’s real. From the year 1951, I thought it was 1953.”

 

And with that they began a topic on old photographs. Tom was secretly satisfied that the topic had steered away from him. He had- on the course of their conversation- realized that she hadn’t recognized him. Or she simply didn’t know him. Which was strange since her world revolved around Tumblr and if Luke was to be believed, he had recently acquired a rather big and devoted fandom on said website.

 

By the time they were leaving, Cameron was as lively as ever. Tom guided her outside into the streets, this time leading her to his house, a hand protectively placed around her shoulders.


	2. Old Habits & New Friends

Cameron groaned a she rolled onto her back, the sun streaming into the bedroom she shared with her sisters, disturbing her peaceful slumber. Really, this was the most blissful sleep she’d had in forever and someone ruined it for her by opening the damned blinds. That meant that Ophelia and Jenny were up and ready and that her mother would soon yell at her to wake up.

 

Cameron lay in bed in wait for her mother to yell at her. It was stupid really. She could just wake up, get out of bed and be done with it. Her mother wouldn’t need to yell at her and Cameron’s day would not start on a bad note like it did every single day. Her head hurt though and she was not sure if it had something to do with the sun’s rays or her own activities.

 

She sighed.

 

She could simply get up and get on with her day. There would be no reason for her mother to yell at her; no reason for her to pick a fight with her; no reason for her to stalk out of her house and to Mick’s for the usual. Hell, she could even avoid doing drugs the whole day if she woke up and didn’t let her mother come in to yell at her.

 

She could be… _happy_ if she did that.

 

But the masochist in her was unwilling and Caro lay in bed, her eyes closed waiting, _waiting…_

 

_….waiting…_

_….waiting._

 

But the sound of her mother’s impatient footsteps, the routine rapping of the door and the _“WAKE UP!”_ before the inevitable yell never came. Instead, she heard soft footsteps padding into the room, a knock on the door before a civilized _“Cameron.”_.

 

Her mother never did that.

 

Niether did her father on the rare, rare occasion he was home.

 

Her sisters certainly didn’t do that and neither did Lin.

 

To say she was beyond confused was an understatement.

 

She gave no response- wondering if she was hallucinating again and the voice came again.

 

It was deep and masculine and she was just about to dismiss it and drift back to sleep when it came to her: it was a **MAN**. _Did that mean…?_

 

Cameron jolted up, her eyes snapped open to reveal Tom Hiddleston sitting at the foot of her bed (it was not her bed; she was not at home), looking at her and _smiling_.

 

“Good morning,” he greeted her and she was just in the process of responding- an automatic reflex because her parents (and this was beyond ironic) had drilled good manners into all their three children- when it hit her.

 

Tom Hiddleston was _smiling_.

 

_At her._

 

Tom _FREAKIN’_ Hiddleston was smiling at her.

 

_TOM FREAKIN’ HIDDLESTON WAS SMILING AT HER._

 

When did _THIS_ happen?

_Moreover, how- **HOW? HOW? HOW?-** did this happen?_

_Since when did **SHE** become **FRIENDS** with the **GUY WHO PLAYS LOKI???**_

 

Who, by the way, may or may not be the love of her life.

 

She wondered if she’d finally lost it.

 

“I’m guessing that you’ve recognized me,” he tried to keep it casual- and _calm_ as if it was no big deal.

 

“You’re Tom Hiddleston,” she managed to say, her voice shrill and her eyes wide. A faint red was appearing on her neck which slowly started to spread all over her face as well.

 

Tom chuckled at the sight before him _. Why, she was blushing!_

 

“Yes,” he agreed, “that is my birth name.”

 

Cameron continued to stare at him, her face almost completely colored now. The silence made him worried.

 

“Cameron,” he said, “are you alright?”

 

“What?” She blinked, confused. _Tom Hiddleston couldn’t possibly be asking if she was alright, right?_

“You look… _star struck_ ,” he told her.

 

She blushed even more. “Oh nothing,” she said, “just tryna remember what happened last night.”

 

“You mean you don’t remember anything?” he asked her, surprised.

 

“Huh, well that’s me,” she muttered sheepishly, “I don’t remember the stuff that I do when I’m high-” She stopped herself.

 

_Was she really going to tell Tom Hiddleston about her drug habit?_

 

She _had_ to be crazy!

 

“I mean-” she stuttered.

 

“I know what you mean,” Tom said, “I saw you last night.” And I’d really like to help you get over it, went unsaid. He liked her. He liked her _a lot_ in the little time he’d known her and in that little time had come to really care for her. He didn’t know why though. There was something refreshing about Cameron. He couldn’t put a finger on it. He was worried about her drug use. _What could possibly compel a child to resort to drugs?_ He wanted to ask her. What could possibly be so bad that she thought that she had no other option?

 

Of ourse, he couldn’t ask her that as he was afraid of being cut off. Last night, she’d basically revealed much of her life under influence. Did she mean to tell him any of that?

 

May be not…

 

For the time being, he decided, he would not let on what he knew.

 

“Oh great,” she groaned causing him to focus more on her and less on his thoughts again. “Even the guy who plays Loki knows about my fucking drug habit.”

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to said that if she minded it so much, she ought to give it up when-

 

_“The guy who plays Loki?”_

 

Cameron nodded.

 

_“What?”_

“Yeah,” she explained, “you’re Tom Hiddleston so you’re the guy who plays Loki.”

 

“Of course,” he humored her, “Breakfast is ready, by the way."

 

She smiled, mimicking him as she said, "Of course."

 

* * *

 

 

Cameron’s drug habit was a nuisance. Twice, she had ended up in prison because of that and served six months in juvile. Cameron was well aware of the fact that she lost her sense when high- heck, she’d even done a few _completely_ inappropriate things when high which she would have had no recollection of, had her friends not told her. Seriously, her mind was **_that_** fucked up.

 

But never had she ever thought that her messed up mind would wind up having breakfast with Loki.

 

Well, the guy who plays Loki anyways.

 

But that wasn’t the point.

 

She- Caro Parkinson was having a full English breakfast with Loki, God of Mischief.

 

Aka the love of her life.

 

Not that she’d tell him that ever anyway.

 

And okay, maybe she was basically playing with her food like usual but- again- it wasn’t the point.

 

It still qualified as breakfast.

 

With Tom Hiddleston.

 

Caro wasn’t sure when or how this happened. She looked up to from her plate to watch the alleged party and saw that he too was looking at her- quite alertly so, if she be so bold. But Caro was not bold and immediately looked down at her plate, this time taking a bite of the bacon just to make it look like she was eating.

 

_The dude was staring at her!_ Her conscious yelled.

 

_With those Tesseract blue eyes no less!_

 

Odin’s beard, she was beyond devastated.

 

What was she supposed to do?

 

Tom coughed, breaking the silence between them “Is everything alright?” he asked. She was slowly starting to blush again and he had noticed that she wasn’t exactly eating her food either.

 

“Wha- I mean, yeah,” Cameron stuttered, “everything’s fine. Perfect.”

 

“Are you sure?” Tom asked her, worriedly. “Because you haven’t touched your breakfast. Isn’t it good? I could make you something else if you don’t like it. I c-”

 

“Tom,” Cameron interrupted him, “it’s alright. I just…I just don’t really have an appetite of breakfast or anything. It’s kinda my thing after…” _My obnoxious drug episode._

 

But she didn’t say that.

 

Thankfully, he took the hint.

 

Silence engulfed them both for a good few minutes. Unable to bear the awkwardness, each decided to break the silence  but ended up doing so at the same time.

 

“Tom-”

 

“Cameron-”

 

They stopped immediately, glancing at one another once more before laughing.

 

“Well, this is awkward,” Cameron blurted.

 

“I’ll say. We weren’t like this at all last night,” he admitted.

 

Cameron raised a brow. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. We spent hours talking.”

 

“Wow, that sounds surreal given well, this very moment,” she said, “but that’s kinda how I get- I just talk and talk and talk… until I forget what I was talking about and then- well, start rambling…. Kind of like now,” she muttered when she realized that she had elongated the sentence unneccassarily.

 

“And you don’t normally do that Cameron?” he asked her teasily.

 

She smiled longingly. She had not done so since Sara died. She’d become really quiet- all her friends had noticed, her school teachers. Heck, they’d told her mother to have her see a doctor because she was showing signs of depression. Her mother hadn’t thought so. She thought that Caro was being the attention whore that she was.

 

And Caro had gone deeper and deeper into her shell until she was a ghost of the person she used to be. And then came the drugs to make the hurt go away.

 

Caro found that she liked the numb better than any feeling- negative or positive.

 

But somehow Tom had managed to get through the shell. She wasn’t sure how that happened though. She knew she was an insufferable bitch when she was high- that’s what everyone always told her.

 

And yet Tom made it sound like she was the most entertaining, interest person on planet Earth and that they kicked off pretty well.

 

She wasn’t good at making friends with normal people because she wasn’t normal.

 

But she liked it. It wasn’t like she was going to see Tom again after this.

 

And he was so nice to her, it didn’t seem fair to shut him completely.

 

Especially since no one was as kind as he was.

 

He didn’t deserve to be treated like shit- which was how she usually treated people.

 

So for the first time in months, Cameron opened up and said, “Caro.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s Caro- no one calls me Cameron,” she informed him _. Lie. Her grandfather called her Cameron._

 

“Oh,” he said sipping his morning coffee, “Caro. That’s nice.”

 

She smiled at him feeling her heart swell. And that was something else that Tom was doing without him realizing. He was making her feel _better_.

 

“You told me you had to get home today,” he reminded her.

 

Caro froze _. And this is what happens when you try to feel better about yourself,_ the voice in her whispered, _you’re finished. You idiot._

 

And then she sprung out of her seat.

 

“Oh! I totally forgot!” she cried, looking around quickly for her belongings, “I need to call Aunt Lin! Shit, I’m so screwed.” And then she panicked. “I can’t believe I missed school again! I’m in so much trouble-”

 

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think right. All Cameron wanted was the ground to open and swallow her alive. She would get expelled. Expulsion meant-

 

“Caro!” Tom was suddenly standing in front- well, kneeling in front of her, shaking her shoulders lightly.

 

She stared back at him. _What?_

 

“Are you OK?” he asked her, his eyes scanning her face as he cupped it with both of his hands. Caro could see a strange, alien emotion on his face and her heart sank.

 

_Worry._

 

He was worried about her.

 

No one was ever worried about Caro.

 

They pitied her, they were disgusted by her- but no one, no one in a million years had ever worried about her.

 

No one had ever even looked at her as if her well being was all that matter.

 

And yet Tom- who she had just met last night was exhibiting that one emotion that she’d never gotten from her own mother.

 

And that’s when she lost it.

 

Cameron began to cry. Blubber like a baby. In front of Tom Hiddleston who just stared in shock as he tried to find out exactly what was wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Is your phone charged?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What about your ipod?”

 

“I don’t own an ipod Tom.”

 

“Huh? Why not?”

 

“Are you seriously going to ask me _that?”_

 

“Oh right. What about snacks for the journey?”

 

Cameron glared at Tom with a look of utmost disinterest and annoyance. “Yes, _dad_ ,” she said pointedly.

 

Tom sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just… concerned, “he admitted.

 

“Don’t be, I’ll be fine,” she said, searching her pockets for her pack of cigarettes. “I do this all the time.” She couldn’t find them. _That’s strange,_ she thought. She was sure she had them this morning.

 

_Unless…._

 

“Tom, where are my cigarettes?” she asked him.

 

He immediately became busy, fumbling with her jacket zipper. “You know, winter’s mild in London,” he said, “compared with the north. It’s _much_ colder up north and…”

 

“Tom,” she said sternly. He looked up at her to meet her exceedingly unimpressed gaze.

 

_Oops._

 

He sighed in defeat. “I got rid of them. _You_ don’t need them.”

 

Caro groaned. “You can’t just get rid of cigerattes and expect me to get over them. It’s sort of a gradual thing, okay?”

 

Tom made a face. “Promise me you’ll get over it,” he said.

 

She sighed. “I will- I just…” she looked around for a tuck shop- anything- that would give her what she’s need. “… need some.”

 

“You can have them when you get home,” he chastised her, “I’m sure you’ll be able to find some.”

 

Caro smiled mockingly. “You bet I will.”

 

“Well, good bye,” Tom said, noticing that her train had arrived.

 

“Good bye,” she said.

 

Tom stepped forward to hug her which she promptly returned (Hey, _Loki_ was hugging her!).

 

“Promise me you’ll be fine,” he spoke into her hair. Caro nodded and they stepped away. She walked into the tube waving one last time as the doors closed.

 

And then she was gone.

 

Tom sighed.

 

Something told him that this was not the last time he’d see her. For another, he had her number. Speaking of number-

 

Tom pulled out his phone and opened the Twitter app. He typed the name Caro Parkinson into the search bar.

 

Sure enough, there she was; grinning with a girl around her age as her Twitter icon looking as adorable as ever. _Boy, did he love-_

 

Tom frowned. _Where did that come from?_

 

Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of that uncalled for thought as he followed her.

 

His grin widened when he saw the username.

 

Damn, she was Ben’s fan.

 

And had tweeted two minutes ago.

 

**_"Heading home after an eventful weekend."_ **

 

Tom read the tweet and smiled as he favorited it.

 

He felt really happy for some reason. More relaxed and refreshed than he had in a long time.

 

_And,_ he decided _, it was only just the beginning._


End file.
